


Getting the Rhythm.

by Karieauthoress (ksrandomme), ksrandomme



Category: The Sentinel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-30
Updated: 2009-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksrandomme/pseuds/Karieauthoress, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksrandomme/pseuds/ksrandomme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair realizes the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting the Rhythm.

  
Its official, I suck. Let’s review.

Six months and one week ago, I was confronted by two women, Caro and Sam. One was once my girlfriend and the other had been the most important woman in my partner’s life. Now these women pretty much called me hateful things (nothing new there), said stuff about me that made me feel self-conscious about my words, actions and self (again, nothing new there), and then they walked away.

So, six months and one week ago I made a snap decision. Now notice I didn't say it was a good decision or a wise decision? Right, that's because it wasn't either of those, it was exactly what I said - a snap decision made entirely on the emotional backlash from the little visit I endured.

My knee jerk reaction had me making drastic changes to protect my partner, my Sentinel. Or at least that is what I told myself. I shucked all my old ways. I changed my clothes, hair, attitude, and turned into a hard-assed, repressed monk of a cop. Sound familiar? It should. Simply put, I turned into what my partner started out as, the type of man I had worked so hard to pull him out of being.

Six months my partner put up with the new and improved me, but then one week ago something happened. Something prompted him to find the clues and put together the case I was the victim of, even if I wasn't recognizing myself in the position. He dealt with the perpetrators and then went to do the next logical thing, deal with the victim - me. And what did he get for his care and trouble? Blasted to hell and back with a wall of repression and denial that you could cut with a fucking knife.

With me so far? Good, cause now it gets better. See, when my partner confronts a problem, he does his best work physically. That’s where the kiss came into play. Kiss… lips, teeth and tongue. Marvelous. I’ll never have another like it. I don’t want another like it. I want more of them, lots and lots more. (Yeah so sue me, I'm greedy.)

But I am still sorting through my head what changed. I mean, let’s face facts here, I didn’t change overnight and this is not going to get fixed over night. But it can get one hell of a jumpstart from me if I can focus on what I did. So I have to process it all in my head so I know what to do in the real world. What’s Jim doing while I’m so silent? He’s sitting beside me on the couch, his arms wrapped around me as if I’ll slip away any minute now. Cause I’ve gone back to something a bit more normal, something he understands. I’m processing, like the old Blair… like Chief would… not Sandburg the cop, but Chief, the Guide. He's finally gotten me back and he’s not letting me go.

And this is me, processing.

I'd changed my hair (something I swore I'd never do), my clothes (okay, they weren't a huge loss - but man I was seriously going to miss the flannel when it got cold), and I'd abandoned my academic nature to throw myself entirely into police work (again, not a bad thing - as I was now actually a cop).

Okay so I had fully immersed myself in being a cop, as I said probably a pretty good idea now that I was a full-fledged officer of the law. Police work is important and serious and I would need to stay sharp to help my partner, but that I had packed away all my anthropology things, the books, trinkets, and artifact collections - that was mind-blowing. As was the fact that Jim had felt he needed to secrete them away after I had packed them in case I tried to throw them out. Scarier to realize he might have been right.

“It’ll grow back.” I didn’t even realize I had spoken until I felt Jim shift position, bringing his nose to the nape of my neck, nuzzling the skin right under the edge of my curls. Oh… that’s what he missed… I like that… I could get used to that… I raise one hand, the one closest to him, and rub the short hairs of his neck, slide down to his cheek, keep his nose pressed right there, close so he can scent me.

“I promise it’ll grow back.”  



End file.
